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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    960Saue bidding farewell to so sweete a guest,
    As my sweete Richard: yet agayne me thinkes
    Some vnborne sorrow ripe in Fortunes wombe,
    Is comming towardes me and my inward soule,
    With nothing trembles, at something it grieues,
    965More then with parting from my Lord the King.
    Bushie Each substance of a griefe hath twenty shadowes,
    Which shewes like griefe it selfe, but is not so:
    For Sorrowes eyes glazed with blinding teares,
    Diuides one thing entire to many obiects,
    970Like perspectiues, which rightly gazde vpon
    Shew nothing but confusion; eyde awry,
    Distinguish forme: so your sweet maiestie,
    Looking awry vpon your Lords departure,
    Finde shapes of griefe more than himselfe to waile,
    975Which lookt on as it is, is naught but shadows
    Of what it is not; then thrice (gracious Queene)
    More then your Lords departure weep not, more is not seen
    Or if it be, tis with false Sorrowes eye,
    Which for things true, weepes things imaginarie.
    980Queene It may be so; but yet my inward soule
    Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be,
    I cannot but be sad: so heauie sad,
    As thought on thinking on no thought I thinke,
    Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke.
    985Bush. Tis nothing but conceit my gratious Lady.
    Queene Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriude,
    From some forefather griefe, mine is not so,
    For nothing hath begot my something griefe.
    Or something hath the nothing that I grieue,
    990Tis in reuersion that I do possesse,
    But what it is that is not yet knowen what,
    I cannot name, tis namelesse woe I wot.
    Greene God saue your maiesty, and well met Gentlemen,
    995I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland.
    Queene Why hopest thou so? tis better hope he is,
    For his designes craue haste, his haste good hope:
    Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt?